


Rygdea's plight

by Glaurung_II



Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Family, Family Drama, Gen, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22197652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glaurung_II/pseuds/Glaurung_II
Summary: After the Fall of cocoon, Rygdea is left as the head of the provisional government. Aside from administrative and security tasks, he has to execute the will of an old friend, discovering many secrets in doing so.
Kudos: 2





	Rygdea's plight

Life’s not fair.

That was one of the first lessons my old man taught me, back when I was just a little brat with scrapped knees and only him to look after me.

My mom died back when I was very little and I only knew about her from photos and what my grandma told me about her.

The old man never talked about his wife.

I’ve always called him old man, but he would have been roughly the same age I’m right now when I asked my first questions. Funny how little kids see anyone who’s as little as a year ahead of them already old and unreachable.

They had married young, my parents. Younger than I was when Cocoon went down the drain. It’s only now that I caught on how young he was when he was left alone with me. Imagine a tall, burly, slightly scary, rough-and-mean-looking tower of a man looking after a scrawny little kid. Now imagine him doing it all right, teaching the kid how to be strong, how to take no shit no matter where it came from and how to be loyal to what he believed in. That was my father, my old man.

He’s still alive and enjoying life, now that he’s nearing his sixties, the old bear. A bit greyer and a bit smaller, but still with the same loud laughter and bushy beard. I visit him as often as I can, and he will always tell me to retire from the army, that what I was thinking when I joined them anyway, and that life in Pulse is not that bad after all.

I would if I could. I will, eventually, but there are still loose ends that I have to tie up. Raines’s legacy weights heavy on my shoulders. Or something like that.

The point is, that life’s not fair. If I didn’t learn it when I was little, I’ve had a good serving of the motto during these past five years to hammer it in my head.

Don’t misunderstand me, life has been good to me, but I’ve seen so much shit going down for people who didn’t deserve it, that I began to grow afraid that my own helping was lurking somewhere, waiting for me to lower my guard and strike me.

It hasn’t arrived yet, but I think it won’t take long.

It all began five years ago, when Cocoon fell. A week after that, communications were restored and I was surprised when I saw that my inbox was full of messages from Raines. By that time I already knew that he had been a l’Cie all along, that Dysley had been a fal’Cie all along, and that I had been an idiot all along. Or at least I felt like it.

I opened the files to see all the communication logs from the Purge days, complete with Raines’ biometric data. The bastard had thought in advance of everything, so the only thing I had to do was showing and telling. The gist was finding the right moment.

It was easy at first, when we deposed the old Sanctum and disbanded it. PSICOM’s staff had gone to the frontier lands, shooed away by the citizens, quietly and without a flinch. Then it became more complicated as people realized that there wasn’t more relying of the fal’Cie to do everything, kinda like when you become an adult and you have to start looking for yourself.

If only there had been the logs, things would have been easier, but Raines also made me his will’s executor, which is to say, that he had several video messages he wanted me to deliver to several people. Why didn’t he send them like he did with me? Because that old bugger would know, and then he would suspect something was amiss. That much Raines had told me on the recording directed at me.

You have been a good friend and more than ally, he said, thank you very much for everything, sorry I left you so deep in shit, but I know you can pull it off and get away smelling like roses, thanks and bye. Not exactly his own words (he used fancier ones, you can bet your ugly boots), but the message was more or less like that.

The government I didn’t mind. It was a provisional thing that I would forget and tell as a funny joke once I was old. It was his will what almost pushed me over the edge.

Raines had a family.

One would think (I bet many of the boys had thought about it at least once) that Brigadier General Raines had spawned from the Lindblum’s bridge, that he had always been that uptight, impossible to read man who made the ladies trail after him with his indifference.

He had been born from a real woman, who in turn was married to a real man, and before him three sisters had come into existence. Three sisters whom, in turn, had married and had their own families.

So there I went to the Raines’ home after concerting an interview with the older Mrs. Raines. That was, maybe, two months after the Fall of Cocoon, and the news that Raines had been a l’Cie hadn’t been disclosed yet. There were no sign of the older sisters, which was good. I had a few words with Raines’ parents, warned them about the secret their son had, and then let them watch the recording.

It’s hard to see and old woman cry. It’s even harder to see an old man, who’s so alike someone you considered a human icicle, go from silent tears to downright sobbing as his son goes on about his reasons for cutting all ties with them, why he was branded, how he got his second brand, what would happen to him (without mentioning me shooting him in the head), that he had always loved them, that thank you for being the best parents a son can wish for, say goodbye to my sisters and that I love them, and then ending up nearly losing it himself and crying before the camera.

Not for the first time, I wished Raines could be revived so I could punch his face.

I left that house with a knot in my stomach. His parents thanked me, and his mom hugged me so hard I thought my ribs would crack. She told me her son was lucky to have such a good friend (me).

If only she knew.

Next stop: His ex-wife’s home.

Yes, Raines, the ice-man, had been married.

It had been before ascending to Brigadier General. He filed for divorce the week after his commission was official, and she had been pregnant around that time.

She hadn’t married again. She didn’t say it, nor did I ask, but her expression was that of my old man when my mom was brought up in any conversation. It hurt too much to even think about it.

I could see why Raines had liked her so much. Many chicks think that having class is all about putting up airs and acting like the whole Cocoon should be thankful they were born. This woman had real class, and her prettiness went beyond a bonny face. She was also a doctor of some renown, so the lass had brains. Raines had gotten the whole package.

Their kid wasn’t around when I visited, which suited me. Still, I could see photos of the two around the living room. He was a miniature copy of his father.

Repeating what I did with Raines’ parents, I explained to his ex-wife more or less what had happened with him. At first she told me that she had forgotten about him, that she had resumed her living without him (or any man, for what I saw around the house). Anyway, I could convince her to sit down and watch Raines’ message, which she did.

That time I went out and waited at the door. No need to listen to that message.

It was a long time until she told me it was OK to go inside. Her eyes were reddened and she held a crumpled tissue in her hand, but her voice was even and she offered me some tea for my troubles. I never cared for that stuff but I accepted it anyway.

She asked me many questions, which I answered the best I could, except how he died. After all the bitterness she surely built up over the years, now it had come to nothing.

“Did you watch the recording?” she asked, wringing her hands.

I shook my head.

“Cid said some things about you.”

I felt my muscles stiffen.

“He said you had been a good friend to him,” she kept on. “And that if not for you, he would have lost his hopes and his mind in no time.”

After a pause.

“Tell me, did he… did he mention us?”

“I didn’t know he had a family until now,” I said. “I always thought he was very strange, since he was alone, yet I can’t remember him looking at any woman.”

That was the truth, pure and simple. I sounded like some of those pretty lies people make up to please others, but with Cid Raines that was what happened.

I had to accompany him several times to official events where those fancy ladies go to find a rich or important man to fleece. He never took any interest in any of them, even when some would nearly throw themselves in his arms. I thought at first he would be more interested in guys, but time shown me that it wasn’t the case either.

Not even when Fang was with us aboard the Lindblum did he bat an eyelid towards her. She might not have been your thing, but she was exotic enough to make the boys’ heads turn or murmur between them. I heard one or two locker-room conversations and it was clear she was half the crew’s kind of girl (one of the conversations involved wondering how she unwrapped that blue cloth). They never made any sign of it because they thought she was Raines’ at first; then they believed she was actually _my_ girl and Raines had let her stay as a favor towards me.

My girl. If only…

The point was that I finally understood Raines on that matter: He had never stopped thinking about his wife. One could believe that it was his brand being in such a visible place, but a hand can be bandaged and off you go on your merry way to pick girls up. No, he remained faithful, despite everything.

Life isn’t fair and, as I said goodbye to that wonderful woman, the bile rose to my mouth, wondering how much shit one man could take before he lost his mind.

I wished I could have revived Raines and treat him to a stiff drink.

The following week I took it off and headed to my old man’s place. He had moved to Pulse and it seemed to suit him all right.

He’s always been his own man, and having the opportunity to build his own house and get his own food sounded like sweet music to him. So down he went and built his home on a little settlement which, little by little, would get bigger and bigger until it was a city five years later. He had no running water and electricity came from a small generator, but he was happy and said he wanted to spend some years like that, until he was so old and frail someone had to take care of him. But I knew better, and his intention was to exert himself so much either the physical strain of some illness would take him.

That’s my old man for you.

One of the things I’ve always liked about the old bear is that I could always count on him to give me sound advice when I needed it. But that time I didn’t ask for his opinion or anything. We’ve never been very talkative, now that I think about it. Anyone could have mistaken any scene with the two of us together as the aftermath of a fight, but we didn’t need to be yapping every second to know we could count on each other. Thing is, that I must have been more silent than usual because he asked me one night what was eating at me. We were sitting at the porch overlooking the plains surrounding Cocoon. We had a small lantern between us, not enough to read, but it was good to see each other’s face and keep beasts away.

I had thought already about telling him the whole story. The former l’Cie knew about Raines being a l’Cie and me killing him, but no one except me knew about his family. I wanted, for the first time in my life, to take the whole story off my chest.

So I did. I told the whole thing from when Raines disappeared from the Lindblum to when I went away from his wife’s home. My old man listened while sipping his beer in silence. When I finished he got up and went inside. He then came back, and he was carrying a bottle with a dark liquid and two glasses. I couldn’t see which color was the drink, but it swam thickly around the glass’ walls and tasted bittersweet in my mouth.

“For the fallen comrades,” he said, and donned his glass in one gulp.

I tried to do the same, but it burnt my throat so badly I nearly choked. My pa patted me on the back, chuckling.

“Easy, boy,” he laughed. “This ain’t that watery stuff the fal’Cie canned for us. This is real liquor from Pulse’s fruits.”

Then he sighed, looking at his own empty glass.

“As I see it,” he said. “You did what he asked you to do so, what’s the matter?”

“Haven’t you been listening? I killed him!”

“There are times when a man gets tired of living,” he said pensively, as if talking more about himself than about Raines. “I raised you to give no shits about cowards, so I think this Raines man was no sissy if you stuck around him for so long. Fal’Cie are sneaky things, so that old bastard Dysley must have sensed that too. Suppose his two Focuses forbade him from killing himself, as a failsafe. Raines thought his way around them and got the upper hand, in his own way, and a fat lot of good it was, but in the end he had the last laugh. He trusted that you would survive and that those l’Cie would do the right thing, and he won. He deserved at least a toast of my best wine.”

“They train you to kill people,” I said. “To kill Pulse barbarians, not your own friends.”

“It was his will,” he pronounced. “It was a shitty thing to do, manipulating you like that, but it was his life, and I bet he wanted to go his own way.

“Life’s not fair,” he said after a long pause. His voice sounded weary and a bit hoarse, and the wine had nothing to do with it. “Look at your mom, so pretty and young, with her black hair and her blue eyes and her soft skin and her wits and her brains. She was taken away and we were left alone. No woman could ever fill the void she left.”

The wine had gone to his head but I didn’t want to interrupt him: It was the first time he talked about his wife, the mother I’d only seen in photos.

“Your mother was strong,” he said with a half-smile. “Most girls I knew were prissy princess-wannabes, but your mom was the real thing. She talked her mind and never minced words. She never went about that I-want-this-or-that-but-I-won’t-say-it-so-you’ll-have-to-guess-it shit. She wanted something? She asked for it or she went and got it herself. There won’t be anyone like her in a long time, son. In a very long time.”

It was very late when I went inside myself, after my old man had turned in. I’m not sentimental, but the things I’d seen and heard those days had moved me, though it took me some time to admit it to myself. I knew that, from that moment on, I would never see things the same way. I pondered over my future on that porch that night, and made my decision.

I would honor Raines’ memory with my acts. I would help construct a society he would be proud of, and then retire and live my life.

Raising the glass of Pulse wine, I made a lonely toast and emptied it in one gulp.


End file.
